Run
by Requests for Shriayle
Summary: We've seen how one coven of ancient vampires has risen above the rest. What about the other ancients? What is their complicated history, what is the reason for their fall from glory? ONE-SHOT


**Hello, reader! This is Shriayle here with a request from someone on my ask. fm by the name of Abby. It was quite a while ago that she requested this, but I finally got around to something that I think fulfills her request.**

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 _Run. Run, run, run. Run until your breath catches in your lungs and chokes you where you stand, run until you can't bear to look back, run until the sobs clench your innards and make you want to vomit all over the alleyways, run until your terror overcomes you and even if you spat blood you would not care. Run until you cough out your lungs and fall to the ground, heaving, struggling to get back up and clawing at the ground. It matters not. We will be there._

Once upon a time, long long ago, there was a creature who shone like the stars and had the strength and speed of a lion. He had the immortality of the mountains in his skin and the far-reaching sights of the stars in his eyes. Venom ran through his teeth and fire burned crimson in his pupils. He was a creature to be feared, said to be carved out of marble in the form of man by one we only know as the Great Mother.

But he lived a cursed life, one that could not be held unless others died for him. At first, he cared not for what he had to do. The Great Mother had already explained all to him; he was a created being, not one that was natural to the world. She had unleashed him out of anger to the other Divine Beings that had banned Her from joining the Creation that they had partaken in millennia ago. Thus, he was born of the hatred towards the others who had blood running through their veins, blood that She did not know of. He needed the blood to live on, to continue to survive as long as he had. So he begged the Great Mother to give him the sustenance, to bring him the blood that he needed to survive. She told him that She could not, that She did not have the ability to bring him the blood he needed. However, She gave him a thirst in his throat that led him to attack the blooded creatures and steal their sustenance for his own.

At first, he was pleased with Her gift. With the gift, he was able to live on, far past even the mortal creatures not built out of stone. His speed, his strength, his thirst, his senses, his unaging body all assisted him in outliving all of his prey, and for a while, he was happy.

One day, he noticed that his prey seemed to coexist, not just kill each other in the wars he had observed. He saw that one man would return to a box-like structure he called his 'home' and sometimes, there would be a woman in there, as well as young humans they called their 'children'. Baffled, he asked the Great Mother about what 'children' were. She told him, "They are little ones that are created from man and woman, or male and female in any other blooded creature. Other animals have eggs that the children come from. It is the man and woman's job to tend to the children, to clean up their messes, to teach them how to live."

After much thought, he asked, "Why do I not have any children? Why do I not have a woman?"

She responded, "I have not created a woman for you."

"Can I not just mate with one of their women?" Mate. What an odd word.

The Great Mother hissed at him like a feral wildcat. "Fool! In what world does a human mate with a cow, or a tiger with a gazelle? They are your _prey_ , not your _mating toys_!"

He was quite taken aback by this. "Then why do I not have a mate?"

The Great Mother was still, pondering. "I will grant you one last gift," She said heavily. "The venom that runs through your body shall be given the power of stasis. You will be able to create your own woman and soon your own children. However, your woman will not be able to create a child with a body of her own. You will have to change another to become your children."

And he agreed, and thus did She bless. And yet, when he chose to create for himself a mate, he unwittingly chose to give up his connection with the Great Mother, for She could not connect to a world of petty jealousy and wanton desires, much like what his creation would be so accustomed to.

He found for himself a pretty little woman to change into one of his own, brought there by some pull to her in his very core. She had seen him in the bushes, his naked form both dazzling and threatening to her, though she was not afraid of him. For the first time, he felt physical changes happen to him, felt his core race and his own body physically stretch towards her, and he knew that she would be his own. When he bit her, an urge fought back his thirst and forced him to release her, letting only the venom take control with no fear of him draining her core.

She burned for three days and three nights, mortal flesh phasing into something akin to his own body and blood turning into venom of her own, infused with his. When she awoke, she saw him and called him lover, their bodies colliding in a close embrace to consummate their relationship, her clothes torn off within seconds of their meeting. She found the thirst unbearable and quenched it with the blood of her former kinsmen, encouraged by him. And when she told him her name, he responded that he was given none, that the Great Mother had not thought he would ever need one. She did not agree with the Great Mother and decided that he would be called Thoriken. She in turn renamed herself; she chose to be called Maerina, abandoning her past and embracing her future with her mate.

They lived for lifetimes before Maerina mentioned that she wanted a child. At first, she did not understand that their lustful nights, no longer plagued by the human idea of sleep, could not bear them a son or daughter. She fought against that very principle, demanding of him to fill her with his seed and plant her now barren fields with the children she yearned for. Thoriken relented, his love for his mate overwhelming his common sense, but after centuries of constant lovemaking she realized that what he said was true. Maerina began to comb through human villages, all the while still trying to bear her own fruit. She did not feel that pull that she shared with Thoriken to any of the humans that she winnowed, and thus she did not change any of them. She became disconsolate; through the days, she searched for one she wished to adopt, and through the nights, she tried to swell her belly with her own kin.

Finally, Maerina came across a little girl, one who was dancing through the fields as she chased after butterflies filled with nectar. She was enchanted with the child, a child who somehow bore such a close resemblance to one that could have been borne to her and Thoriken. When the girl's mother called her near and commanded her home, Maerina felt the urge to leap out and break her neck, taking the girl for her own. She managed to control herself before turning and fleeing back to Thoriken, babbling of the child she saw and the urge to make her their own. Thoriken managed to calm her enough to convince her to take him to the child, and when he saw her, he too felt the same pull towards that human girl.

That night, the girl's parents mysteriously vanished and the girl herself was whisked away. The little girl wasn't frightened of these two figures, not hiding their bodies under even a thread of clothing, who had taken her away. She wasn't frightened even when she saw them devour her parents' lifeblood in front of her eyes. She felt more connected to them than she ever had with her birth parents, and when they declared her to be their own child and named her Balira, she merely nodded and grinned at them with a smile that lacked a few teeth. Knowing of the stasis, Thoriken refused to change her immediately, letting Balira grow up first.

After seasons passed, Balira was now blossoming into womanhood, her already adorable features maturing into something more attractive. It was then, in her two-hundredth moon, that she was changed, both Maerina and Thoriken biting her two wrists and sitting with her for the transformation.

Thus was the first coven created.

One day, as they were feeding, Balira spotted another girl who she was pulled to, not as a mate or a daughter, but as a sister. She told her parents of this new discovery, of the girl she wanted to join their coven, and when they observed the girl, they agreed. They had become wary of the humans, ever since they were able to take down the Children of the Moon with naught but a metal blade, but they managed to draw the girl away and change her without much preamble.

The girl was much more reluctant to join them than Balira had been. True, Balira would have been left alone had she not gone with her parents, but she was also extremely young when Maerina and Thoriken had claimed her. The newer girl was much older, just ten moons younger than Balira's physical age, and she had much more to live for in her life. Thoriken allowed her to return home, warning her that her new thirst would drive her to want to kill those she had once loved. With that warning, the girl grumbled and joined their coven, feeling the pull the other three felt. They named her Caarin, a name she accepted after protesting for three weeks.

Soon, Balira and Caarin had mates of their own, and though they were loath to leave their parents (Balira significantly more reluctant than Caarin), they departed to form covens of their own. Balira and her mate soon found two more to join their ranks, a brother and sister, and thus did the two join. It was to Balira's surprise that the two of them both exhibited symptoms of a supernatural power (the boy had first joined, found out about his skill, and demanded that his sister be changed as well). Caarin and her mate also found two more for their coven, though their two new sons were not blood related but best of friends. The three covens lived in harmony until the day that Thoriken was finally able to reconnect with the Great Mother.

"Centuries have passed and finally we speak again," he said to Her.

"Indeed, my creation. You have done well with the creation of your species, with the establishment of mates to your children, and to their children after them. However, it has come time for your existence to end."

To say that Thoriken was surprised was an understatement of the greatest magnitude. "But Mother, from what I have remembered from Your teachings, we cannot die for we aren't made of flesh and bone."

"Indeed my son," she purred, "but all existences must end when their purposes are complete, and your legacy will live on in your daughters. Rest now, and come join me."

Thus did Thoriken and Maerina pass, in an inferno that devoured half of the forest they resided in. Balira had heard of the destruction and raced to the site to see if her parents had survived, and upon seeing that they were gone, she fell to the ground with only her coven to try and assuage her melancholy. It was then, at that unfortunate moment, that Caarin arrived as well, having made her home farther from the place than Balira had.

"You fool!" she had shrieked, feeling her core ache at the sight. "You have destroyed our parents and their land!"

"It wasn't me, sister," Balira tried to explain through her agony. "It was like this when we came to see. The fire had already burned."

Caarin tried to enter the flames, but she was forced back with a shriek when the fire lapped at her bare skin and left an ugly scar. Balira reached out a hand to her to help her back, but Caarin slapped it.

"You have killed our parents with this helplessness of yours," Caarin snarled with a venom that far outmatched the one her teeth exuded. "We are no longer sisters. From this very moment, you and I are bitter enemies and our covens shall always remember this outrage." With that, Caarin left.

Balira wasted away from sadness that day, abandoned by all she had called family again. Caarin soon followed, bitter about the loss of her past, no matter how much she had resented her parents. Their mates soon followed after, for mates cannot survive in a world without their partners, leaving only their children to blame each other for their parents' demise.

Those of Balira's coven relocated further south, trying to leave the ignominy behind. They stopped on a thin peninsula, found a place, and began to build themselves a home. They called themselves the lord and lady of the land of Bolturr. Those of Caarin's coven moved east, away from the forest and the water, and found themselves in the far east, where it was easy to reign as lords over the land. They called themselves masters of Luminia.

Soon the lord and lady of Bolturr acquired for themselves mates of their own. Having never been told of the stasis himself, the lord foolishly turned his mate when she was almost one hundred moons younger than he, though their love transcended the apparent age gap. The lady was more wise, waiting for her own mate to age to even older than she before changing him. A passing warlord and his mate soon heard of them and came to join their numbers, creating the six we now know as the Volturi coven.

The two lords of Luminia were far shrewder, focusing not on creating lives but on vengeance on those of Volturi. They began to gain a reputation for violence, carving more and more land from their neighbor's territories, claiming the land as their own. Finally, when they were being delivered servants from the territories of those they conquered, they began to amass a giant army of those that had been just changed, those that were newly born to the second life. With this army, they attacked those of Volturi, hoping to wreak havoc amongst them and finally claim revenge for their dear mother. They renamed themselves names that they thought would be far greater than the ones that they once had, trying to escape the past the way their mother had. Lords Stefan and Vladimir became infamous for their attempted battle with the Volturi.

But alas, though they had seen of the supernatural abilities that some of their kind held, they did not know of the destructive properties of such abilities. Perhaps it was because they themselves did not have such gifts but Lord Aro and Lady Didyme of the Volturi did, perhaps it was because they were not as observant. The Volturi coven had found their own army, yes, but they called them 'Guards' and there were far fewer of them. Amongst their number were a pair so young they must have been children. Stefan and Vladimir had sneered at this, but when the girl child turned her blazing red gaze upon their newborns and the army fell to their knees with howls of pain, Stefan and Vladimir turned and fled, trying to escape the new Witch Twins of the Volturi. Some of the newborns escaped that battle, fleeing across the world to try and create their own covens and coexist with the humans.

What remained of the Romanian Coven, as they now called themselves, were Stefan, Vladimir, Vladimir's mate, and two others. Stefan's own mate had been in the disastrous fight and had perished that day, and it was only his loyalty to his brother that prevented him from following suit. They ambushed Lady Didyme with the dregs of their army, effectively crippling the Lord Marcus by casting him into the same purgatory that Stefan was moments away from entering, though the Lord Marcus had not anything to bind him to the true world without the help of one of the other gifted Volturi. That he was significantly incapacitated was an understatement.

One day, the Volturi ambushed them in their own homes. Vladimir's wife and the two others, the only two other no-longer-newborns that were loyal enough to stay with them, were torn apart and burned right in front of the brothers. They fought back, of course, and managed to behead some of the Volturi guards and set them on fire as well, but the two were forced to flee after Vladimir's mate let out her final shrieks of agony from the pyre where she smoked. That battle was the last that the Romanians attacked the Volturi alone, instead building themselves a castle and reigning over their land.

And since then, the Romanians had been lying in wait, waiting like snakes in the night for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, to give their beloved mother a chance to finally rest.

 _Run from the darkness in your heart, children. Run to the light of the world, knowing that the shadows are always there, always watching. Run, though you have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Run._

 _Knowing that we are always there, always watching._

 _Knowing that our snow white and black visages will appear, ready to hunt you down and murder you._

 _For Mother Caarin. For Father Thoriken and Mother Maerina. For the Great Mother, may she touch our lives again._

 _For us, the children of vengeance and anger._

 _Hide away in that castle of yours, wasting away on the thrones of blood you have created for yourselves. Hide away from the world, from the cruel lands that we have conquered, from the figures we have created to tear down the army that you have made for yourselves. We are patient, we are waiting._

 _Soon, you will fall to our hands._

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 **This definitely turned out to be more of a mythology than a story about the Romanians, but I think it fits too xD Hope you like it, Abby!**

 **If you want to request something of your own, the link to my ask. fm is on my main account, Shriayle. Feel free to ask for anything, and include your pen name so I can PM you when it's done!**

 **~Shriayle**


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